


Harry Potter and the Hat with a Mind of its Own

by shadownaga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family, Bad Albus Dumbledore, Dark Harry, Gen, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts First Year, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slytherin Harry Potter, Wizarding Traditions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadownaga/pseuds/shadownaga
Summary: What happens if the sorting hat doesn't listen to Harry's pleas when he first arrives at Hogwarts and sorts him into Slytherin instead?A tale of perspective and traditions that will most likely be the start of a series. First year Hogwarts.





	1. In Which Harry Argues with a Hat, and Loses

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, it's been... probably over a year since I've written anything for any fandom. I write slowly in bursts of inspiration, so updates will probably not be very regular but I will try my best.  
> I'm not entirely certain where this fic is going to go, but we're just gonna jump right in.  
> Non-betaed and I suck at grammar, so.

_ Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. _

_   “Not Slytherin? No, it’s too late, I've made my choice, better be- SLYTHERIN!” _

 

Harry stood and handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall as a hush fell over the great hall, the whispers of a few curious muggleborns the only sound. Keeping his head down, he walked swiftly towards the Slytherin table, taking a seat at the far end. 

As Professor McGonagall resumed her list, he felt a nudge against his shoulder and looked up to find a blonde haired witch extending her hand towards him. 

“Daphne Greengrass, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He cautiously took her hand, shaking it. “Harry Potter.” 

There was a snort from further down the table. “Yeah, we know who you are. The Boy-Who-Lived, our  _ Savior _ .” The upper year sneered at him, the words sounding like poison.

“I- I'm sorry?” Harry offered, to a bout of uproarious laughter. McGonagall didn’t even pause, taking twenty points from Slytherin in the same breath as she called the next name. Several students looked as though they wanted to continue the conversation, but a harsh whisper from a girl that Harry assumed was a Prefect shut them down. Taking the opportunity, Daphne gestured around the table. 

“That’s Millicent Bulstrode, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Bulstrode; Gregory Goyle of the Noble House of Goyle; Vincent Crabbe, of the Noble House of Crabbe; Pansy Parkinson, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Parkinson; Theodore Nott, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott; and Draco Malfoy, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy. Oh, and that’s Davis.”

“Um… Nice to meet you all,” he offered, and the girl Daphne had called Pansy sniffed. 

“Ugh, he’s as bad as a muggle! Don’t you have any manners?”

“Oh, leave him be, Parkinson. We all know he’ll have himself resorted into Gryffindor in a few days. Now shut up, Dumbledore’s talking.” Nott reprimanded her, prompting Harry to look back up towards the staff table and catch the tail end of Dumbledore’s sentence. “-who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

“ _ What? _ ” Harry whispered, aghast, but Daphne placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it, father says he’s completely mad. I wouldn’t put much stake in anything he says.”

“Oh.”  Temporarily mollified, he jumped slightly as food appeared on the table in front of him.

“What’s the matter, Potter, never heard of a house elf before?”   
“A what?”

* * *

 

After dinner, Harry found himself trailing behind the others as the prefects guided them to their new dorm rooms. He had to strain to hear the password (Ouroboros) before he found himself ushered inside. Black leather couches sat in front of the blazing fireplace, with bookshelves and desks lining the wall, and the whole room was filled with an eerie green light. Candles sat on every table, and snakes adorned the walls. Harry found himself thinking that the whole thing felt oddly comforting as a short witch with dark hair stood before them, clapping her hands for their attention.

“I’m Prefect Farley, and this is your home for the next seven years. Those standing next to you are your new brothers and sisters, because Slytherin house is a family. As does any family, we have rules- rules which are to be followed without question. The first of these is loyalty, which you may see as a Hufflepuff trait, but it is the key to your success. Outside these walls, we stand as one. As a house, we are hated and feared; do not allow others to see you as anything other than a united front. 

“Secondly, first years are to stick together in groups of two or more at all times outside of the common room and dormitories. If your yearmates are occupied and it is an educational matter, one of the elder years will escort you. This rule is for your own safety. Third, anyone with any concerns for the safety or health of another student, your own safety, or an educational concern is to report them to a Prefect or Professor Snape, your new head of house.

“And last but not least, don’t get caught. As that concludes the rules, allow me to introduce your head of house, Professor Snape.” She stepped to the side as a hook-nosed Professor glided out of the shadows, startling the first years. His hair glinted in the candlelight as he sneered down at them.

“I have high hopes for this year’s students- let us hope you do not dash them before the year formally starts. I am Professor Snape, Potions Master and as mentioned, your head of house. Prefect Farley has done an adequate job of summarizing the rules of Slytherin House, so let me explain to you a few of Slytherin’s other principles. Around you are bookshelves that contain two copies of each book you may need during your stay at Hogwarts. These books are not meant to leave the common room and are to be shared among your peers. While collaboration is encouraged, plagiarism is not tolerated under any circumstances. Tomorrow night, following dinner, all first year students are to undergo a mandatory health screening. Lights out for first years is at eight PM, and any student found out of their bed after this time will be punished severely. Should you ever have a question on any assignment, you may speak to a Prefect, or you may ask me on Tuesdays and Thursdays after dinner. No one is exempt from these rules, regardless of status, be it blood or nobility, or… celebrity. Understood?”

There were scattered nods, and a chorus of “Yes, sir”s from the group of eleven-year-olds before the Professor turned on his heel and disappeared behind a thick oak door with a billow of this robes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter, hooray and all that. Thanks for the read, I'd love a comment (I love constructive criticism) if you've got the time and kudos are great. Please subscribe for updates if you're still interested, writing styles may vary from chapter to chapter as I get back into the habit of writing.  
> Thanks!


	2. In Which Harry has a Very Rough Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy guess who's actually uploading a second chapter for the first time ever?  
> It only took me like...two weeks?  
> Oh well.

Harry spent the next few minutes in a haze, following his yearmates to the dormitories and taking the last available bed, something which still unnerved him. A loud pop from the end of his bed startled him off the bed, but neither of his roommates seemed to notice, something he was perfectly content with. It was only minutes later that the candles in the room doused themselves, bathing the room in darkness. Unwilling to climb back onto the bed, he simply slid underneath it, taking comfort in the familiar tight space as he fell asleep.

\-----------

Harry awoke early, dim green light peeking under his bed.He crawled out, shuffling towards his trunk as quietly as possible. All his caution was wasted, however, when the lid slammed back with a crash. He froze, waiting to see if his roommates would wake. But Draco just snored and rolled over, while Theodore didn't react at all.

He quickly pulled his robes out and stole into the bathroom, pulling off yesterday's clothes as he gazed at the huge showers, wondering if there was a time limit. With another glance back to the room, he determined that no one would know otherwise, and hopped in, luxuriating in the hot water until his fingers grew wrinkled. As he dressed, he heard the tell-tale signs of people waking and rushed, willing that no one would find him in such a bedraggled state. He was just attempting to comb through his hair with his fingers when the bathroom door opened. 

“Morning, Potter. Ugh, what are you doing?” Malfoy stepped closer to him, dropping his neatly-folded robes on a bench. “That's not how you comb hair.”

“I- um-”

“Where’s your comb? And product?”

“I don’t have any?” Harry offered, unsure, and flinched back at Malfoy’s reaction.

“Don’t have any? What an atrocity. Here, let me help.” Malfoy picked up a comb from his belongings and small tub of a sweet-smelling cream. Without any additional comments, he worked the cream and comb both through Harry’s hair in a gentle manner quite unlike Aunt Petunia’s rough tugs. “You have such rough, coarse hair. This might work for now, but you should really get something made more for your hair. This is for mine, because it’s so thin, see?”

“... yeah, I see.”

“Also, your buttons are messed up. Better fix that, Uncle Severus hates untidiness. He’s been known to hand out punishments for less.”

That was motivation enough for Harry, who jumped at the thought of receiving discipline on his first full day. He startled, however, when Malfoy continued talking from the shower. “Why are you up so early, anyway? Is it homesickness? I know I slept terribly.  It feels wrong, being so far away from home. Maybe if I just think of it as a very long sleepover, it won’t hurt so much. What do you think, Potter?” As Harry tried to formulate an answer, to say no, he wasn’t missing his home at all, Malfoy continued on. “Theo used to sleep over at the manor all the time, before his pa decided he was too old for that. Maybe that means I’m too old for them. Do you ever have sleepovers, Potter?”   
“Um… well, friends stay over all the time.” Harry offered, neglecting to mention that they were Dudley’s friends, and the nights when they stayed over he often wished that he could stay locked in his cupboard.

“Oh, that’s so not fair. Blaise would stay over, but his mum always wants him home. That’s why she held him back a year, she didn’t want him to go so far away. Pass me my towel, would you?” 

Harry wordlessly handed him his towel, noting that it was much softer than the ones he had found next to the sink.

“Brilliant, thanks. Hey, maybe we should wake up Theo, or he’ll miss breakfast.” Privately, Harry wasn’t so sure he could eat breakfast after the large meal he had for supper the night before, but he nodded anyway as they left the bathroom.

\------------

The morning passed quickly, enthralling Harry as he was properly introduced to the world of magic for the first time. He stuck close to his yearmates as they hurried from class to class, listened attentively to his teachers, and eagerly helped himself to as much food as his stomach could handle at both meals.

When they left for breakfast, Harry was surprised when Draco’s constant chatter came to a screaming halt, looking over only to find a self-assured, almost disdainful expression slide over his face. Draco was far from the only one, for Harry soon learned that all but Tracy Davis wore these masks, and within hours she adopted one as well. Within the safety of Slytherin walls, they were normal eleven-year-old children; but outside they were the picture of dignity and propriety. It occurred to Harry that his new friends were the wizarding equivalent of Dudley and his gang, but with far more manners, and was startled to realize that this revelation did not disturb him. Rather, he found it comforting to have the upper hand, to not be beneath someone’s thumb (or fist).

But all these new discoveries paled in comparison to that of his first potions class. 

It was during lunch that Harry discovered through his friends' conversations that many of them had prior training in potions basics and safety, and he could only assume the same went for the rest of the wizarding community.  It occurred to him that perhaps he should have received some form of these lessons, and that perhaps Hagrid had forgotten to tell him about them. As such, he’d borrowed one of Draco’s early potions books and read as much of it as he could, as quickly as he could, unwilling to risk his safety in a class that could probably be dangerous, much like chemistry, he supposed. 

And it was with this knowledge that he took a seat beside Nott for his first potions class as Professor Snape swept into the room, closing the heavy door and beginning to call role. He all but ignored Harry’s presence, which was more than some other teachers could say, and had barely opened his mouth to begin speaking when the door burst open again, revealing a small pack of Gryffindors. Snape ordered them to be seated with a curl to his lip that reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, and swiftly took fifteen points, much to their very vocal displeasure. A whispered insult lost them another five points before the professor finally addressed the class once again. 

“Thanks to your classmate’s interruption, we no longer have time to go over today’s potion before we begin. As such, your instructions are on the board, and you will work in pairs. Begin.”

With a wave of his wand, chalk instructions appeared and Harry and Theo quickly got to work. Harry found the whole process very similar to cooking, if less forgiving, and took comfort in the familiar motions of slicing and dicing as Theo added ingredients, carefully counting out stirs. Professor Snape, pacing up and down rows to keep a careful eye on their progress, gave them an approving nod as he passed them. 

It was then that two things happened at once. From Harry’s right came a horrified shriek as a pungent smell filled the room, and from behind him a loud shout just before the enormous  _ bang _ of an explosion. Harry tried to duck, but not soon enough as his back was hit by a large amount of boiling potion. Only moments later his feet began to sting, and he looked down to find his shoes being eaten away by some kind of sludge. 

Professor Snape vanished both messes with a wave of his wand, standing tall and furious before the class, and his voice was far deeper than before as he spoke. Harry trembled.

“Longbottom, I hope this will serve as a warning to you to  _ read the instructions  _ before you ever attempt to touch a cauldron again. And as for the student who thought that coating one of my cauldrons with bulbadox powder prior to class, when I discover who you are, I will have you  _ expelled. _ Potter, Longbottom, and anyone else who was harmed by these incidents, stay behind. Everyone else, class dismissed. “

As most of the class filed out, Professor Snape gathered the injured students on one side of the room. “Please divide yourselves into two groups by gender. I have summoned Madame Pomfrey, and she shall be here momentarily.” As the students obeyed, another wave of his wand summoned a heavy curtain, dividing the groups. Momentarily, the door opened to reveal a petite blonde woman, whom Harry surmised must be the school nurse (or, as Professor Snape had called her, Madame Pomfrey). With quick motions and few words both she and Snape set to work, supplying potions and applying creams to each student as needed.  Harry managed to move himself to the back of the line so that by the time Professor Snape arrived at him he was the only student left. 

“Potter, I’ll need you to remove your robes and shirt so that I may see the damage.”

Harry hesitated before he opened his mouth. “Do I- do I have to, sir?”

“What sort of a question is that, you idiot boy? Do you think your celebrity status suddenly grants you immunity to harm?”

“N-no, sir, I just-”

“Is there a problem, Severus? Oh, Mr. Potter. Do you want to have me conduct his physical now, Severus, while we have the time?”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t, if you can manage to convince the brat to disrobe.”

“Now, Mr. Potter,”

“I’m fine! Really. Perfectly alright, no harm done, no physical needed-” He found himself seated and down to just his pants before he could finish his sentence. “Hey!”

“Really, Mr. Potter. I am a mediwitch, there’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And nothing in this room will ever be spoken of to anyone outside these… walls…” As she was speaking, she had turned her wand in a complicated movement, producing a large scroll of parchment. As she unrolled it, her words died off. “Severus!”   
“What? It can’t be that…”

Harry fidgeted in his seat, trying to ignore the burning pain spreading through his back as the adults bent over the parchment. “Um… may I put my clothes back on?”

“Potter, what is this?”

“I- I don’t know what you’re referring to, sir…”

“Severus, perhaps we should move this conversation to the hospital wing. Far more privacy wards there.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right, of course. We’ll use my office floo. Come along, Potter.”

Harry stood, expecting to be pointed towards the door at the side of the classroom but immediately found himself lifted into the air. “HEY!”   
“Don’t be tedious, Potter. Who knows what sort of damage flooing would do to you unattended.”

They stepped into the office, and Professor Snape shifted Harry’s weight in his arms, grabbing a handful of white powder and throwing it into the fireplace before stepping into the green flames and whirling away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking it out, I know the chapters are short.  
> You know the drill, thanks to everyone, you're all wonderful.


	3. In Which Harry is Not the Most Important Person (except that he is).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this was going to be longer. I mean, I got like two more paragraphs longer, then got stuck. So now it's short, because I didn't want you waiting four weeks.  
> Questionable morals regarding the reportation of abuse. Whatever.   
> Also, for future reference - I'm going to be playing around a bit with Harry's ancestors. However, on that note, for anyone worried, he is not going to magically be the heir to 70 families, including ones long extinct because he's still Harry Potter, not Merlin.

For one Professor Severus Snape, the past twenty-four hours had been absolutely horrendous. First, he’d had to deal with one Harry Potter, who had the audacity to be Sorted into his house. The son of James Potter, a Slytherin? Absolutely not.  
Then, he’d had to deal with Tracey Davis, a new student who got so worked about being away from home that she vomited, in addition to sorting out study groups and checking the health records of his older students to see if there was anything new he ought to know. And to add insult to injury, Mr. Harry Potter apparently did not see fit to sleep in his new bed at any time during the night, according to his wards.  
And after a full day of being handed half-arsed or incomplete summer work and grading failing review tests, he had to deal with a level of incompetence and sabotage that resulted in injury in his classroom.  
And now, two hours later, he was slumped in a chair in the hospital wing, massaging his temples as he reviewed the diagnostic charm once again as Potter slept soundly in a bed, aided by a sleeping draught as Poppy spelled potions into him, one after the other.   
“Well, Severus? What are you going to do? Tell the headmaster? I know you never bring these matters to him, but this is Harry Potter, and that has to mean something, regardless of his house.” She finished each vial and turned to him, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear as she did so. He sighed heavily in response.  
“It does mean something, Poppy, and I’m afraid that whatever it is might not bode well for Mr. Potter. No, we’ll keep this to ourselves for now.”  
Poppy sniffed somewhat disapprovingly. “How… fortunate that the ministry hasn’t yet caught up with muggles, what with mandated reporters and all that.”  
“Yes, fortunate indeed for Mr. Potter… I must find out who he has been residing with. Summon me when he begins to wake, would you?”  
“Of course.”  


wWw

  


Two hours later, after digging through piles after piles of court records for the months following the Potters’ death, spurred on by the memory of Potter’s injuries, Severus was grateful for the interruption by his office floo, as merry red flames turned a sickly green to alert him of the call. “Poppy?”  
“He’s awake, Severus, and has worked himself into quite a fit.” The matron’s worried face concerned him more than her words, as he knew she was more than capable of handling a tantrum or any kind of panic attack.  
“Is his magic acting out?”  
“No, and that’s rather what worries me.” Her head disappeared and Severus place his scroll on the desk before stepping through. At eleven years old, accidental magic wasn’t unusual- rather it should be quite common as the child’s magical core was going through, for lack a better term, a growth spurt. And this should be particularly evident when the child is in some kind of emotional distress. For there to be no reaction, it meant one of very few options, most of which were increasingly foreboding. The child’s magical growth could be stunted, or suppressed (whether that be through a magical binding or by the child themselves, neither meant well). The other option was that the child in question already had a high level of control over their magic- which implied either previous training or a skill gained out of necessity. Both of the latter options seemed to be growing more likely by the minute, as Severus finally laid eyes on the boy. Backed against the headboard, knees pulled to his chest, those bright green eyes gifted to him by Lily seemed hollow and suspicious, glancing warily around the room as though expecting an attack at any moment. It took him a moment, but Severus soon realized why Poppy had called it a “fit”; if one listened closely, they could hear the panicked, pleading whispers that poured from the boy’s lips like a desperate prayer.   
While it had been a good while since he had been faced with a situation of this sort, Severus was no less versed in how to handle it. He shrugged off his outer cloak, preferring to forgo the more traditional, heavier robes when he wasn’t in the lab, and placed them on a chair before slowly approaching Potter, giving the boy plenty of time to notice his presence. He was well aware of the intimating look both cloak and robes gave him, and had long ago learned that it was better to leave them behind when dealing with delicate situations such as these. “Mister Potter, do you know where you are?”  
He gave a short, jerky nod, halting in his whispers. “...Yes, sir, Hogwarts.”  
“Yes, you are. You’re in the hospital wing, do you know why?”  
“Potions accident, sir. And…”   
“And a concerning diagnostic charm, something you will learn a simplified form of in your sixth or seventh year. Mister Potter, can you tell me who you’ve been residing with?”  
“My family.”  
“And do they treat you well?”  
“Yes, sir.” The ease with which Potter stated his lie caught him off guard, for what reason would he have to learn to lie so well if he had truly been residing with a distant, hermitic relative of the Potter family, as the records pointed to?   
“Mister P- Harry, when you say you’ve been living with family, could you be more specific?”  
“With my Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia, and Dudley.”  
Well.  
Didn’t that just explain everything?


	4. In Which Not Much Happened, But it Feels Important Anyway

Harry relaxed slightly as Madame Pomphrey spread some kind of cream over his back. It was cool and thick, and left a nice tingling sort of sensation, though it looked more it would make you sick than help you. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Professor Snape- who looked a lot less scary without his big robes, but the way he was scowling kept Harry on edge. One would think that after ten years, Harry would have learned to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help but ask a question. “...am I in trouble?”

“Of course you’re not, dear. We’ll have you fixed up in just a bit, don’t worry. “ Madame Pomphrey’s voice was cheerful, musical almost, but it had a slight edge to it that reminded Harry of how Aunt Petunia sounded when she had to introduce him to normal people, like it wasn’t true. Harry wondered if maybe he was in quite a lot of trouble, and they were just waiting for the right moment to punish him, the same way that sometimes Uncle Vernon would bring up last week’s weeding or last term’s report card when he was angry. He shuddered at the thought, a barely discernable motion that he didn’t think either of the adults noticed. “Professor?”

“What is it, Potter?” The Professor’s eyes snapped onto him, the way a hawk might eye up a mouse it was considering for dinner, and his scowl deepened. 

“...What caused the explosion?”

“Hmm. As you know, you were required to buy one pewter cauldron in preparation for your first year. However, you may have noticed that when you arrived to class there was already a cauldron at each desk. For my first few potions, I prefer to use iron cauldrons, simply to reduce the severity of any mishaps. They are, after all, a good bit sturdier, if not the most conducive to proper brewing. Brewing in an iron cauldron requires additional steps to bring a potion up to the standards it would be,  were it prepared in one of another metal. But, it would seem that after my inspection of the classroom yesterday morning and prior to class today, someone had broken into the first year potions lab and coated one of the cauldrons in bulbadox powder. Attempting to brew a cure for boils in a bulbadox-coated cauldron will cause an explosion; thus, what happened to your back.”

“...oh.”

“I do wonder where they got the bulbadox powder from, as it was not from one of my ingredient closets. Those are warded far beyond the skill of any student here.” Snape was no longer looking at Harry, but past him, his eyes slightly clouded over as he mused over the situation.

“Severus, the poor boy doesn’t need to worry about this. His back is taken care of, I think you should accompany him back to the dormitories now. I’ll expect you back here tomorrow night for another dosage, young man.”

“Yes ma’am.” The reply was automatic, Harry answering her before even properly hearing what she had told him.” He slipped off the hospital bed, which he just noticed had lowered itself to a more comfortable height for him, and grabbed his ruined robes. He tugged them over his head and sighed at their ragged state, for now he only had two sets of robes and he would have to wear them more often than he had hoped. Beside him Professor Snape had stood and donned his own sweeping cloak, opening the ward door and gesturing for Harry to leave. They walked side by side to the dormitories in silence, the only sound being when Professor Snape whispered the password to the stone gargoyle. Just outside his dorm room, when Professor Snape turned to leave, Harry finally gathered the courage to find his voice. “Professor?”

The man heaved a long-suffering sigh and turned around. “What now, Potter?”

“I was just wondering… where the laundry was?”

“The laundry? Simply place your clothing in the provided hamper, Potter. The house elves will take care of it. In the basket, mind you, not on the floor.”

“Got it, uh, thank you, sir.”

The professor disappeared down the hall in a swirling mass of darkness, leaving Harry standing alone in the dimly lit hall, a faint hissing at the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, and more importantly, I think my writing muse is as well. You might notice a marked difference in the skill and tone between this chapter and the last few and that's simply due to inspiration. Eventually I will likely go back and tweak/adjust the older chapter, but for now, enjoy.  
> Also, I'm aware there isn't much here, and I'm aware that I've forgotten where the story was going. But call it developing the relationship between Harry and Snape, both of whose characters I feel I have a better hold on now.


End file.
